


New Skin For The Old Ceremony

by LadyJanus



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanus/pseuds/LadyJanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill and Laura enjoy the music of an ancient Bard!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Love Calls You By Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I came up with over the summer of 2008. Blame too many days in bed with nothing to do but listen to my CD collection. The song lyrics used or referred to in this fic are courtesy of my favourite Bard, the incomparable Leonard Cohen. The songs, in order of appearance, are: Take This Waltz, I’m Your Man, Ain’t No Cure for Love, and Dance Me To The End Of Love. Enjoy!

Prologue: Love Calls You By Your Name

 

It was only after everyone was safely back on _Galactica_ and the other ships in the fleet … only after they’d returned from the shattered wasteland that was Earth, and he’d once again taken command of his ship, since leaving it to Saul was now out of the question until his friend’s status, and that of the other Cylons, was decided once and for all … only after he and Lee had put their disappointment aside to reassure the people … only then did he retire to his quarters. 

 

He found her there, curled up in quiet self-possession on his couch as if she had always been there … had always belonged there—and perhaps she had.

 

She cradled the charred copy of _Searider Falcon_ on her lap. Cottle had released her from sickbay about two hours ago, but _responsibility_ had kept Bill from spending more than a few minutes at her bedside eight hours ago, while she began her latest round of diloxin treatment for her cancer.

 

 _No more_ , he decided. _Nothing will keep me from her anymore. If this latest disappointment with Earth has taught me anything, it is that I cannot afford to waste any more time; she’s still dying and there will never be the perfect time to start a relationship. Well, no more putting everyone else first—this is our night_.

 

Laura’s eyes were focused in the distance when he entered, but as he shut the hatch and spun the lock, her gaze shifted to him and she slowly smiled. Bill gravitated to her—he certainly wasn’t aware of walking over there—drawn inexorably by that smile, which was at once peaceful and content, yet enigmatic … as if she could see into every individual atom of his very being.

 

_“I love you.”_

 

The unspoken that had always been between them was now spoken.

 

_“About time.”_

 

He’d taken refuge in humour at the time, but the unasked had now been asked and it was time for him to give her his answer.

 

Standing before her, he returned her smile, his heart thumping an ancient rhythm in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and devour her with kisses, but he knew that if he touched her, _this_ perfect moment would not come again.

 

He moved over to his antique music player and went down on one knee beside it. For all it looked like an old wooden box, the cabinet that housed the two hundred-year-old machine and its speakers was reinforced with steel, hardwired to its power supply and riveted to the deck. Opening the cabinet, his knowledgeable fingers found the disk he wanted in its protective case and the slim, hardcover book filed next to it.

 

Slipping the small, thin, silver disk from its casing, carefully handling only the edges, Bill slipped it into the player and cued up the selections he wanted from memory. Deft fingers fiddled the various knobs to set the playback levels.

 

He rose, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, and turned to face Laura again. She was still smiling, her eyes sparkling with laughter and curiosity. He held his hand out to her, like a gallant knight from an ancient tale reaching for the Lady in his shield.

 

 _And so she is_ , he realised with crystal clarity. And like a knight of old, he would lay down his life for his Lady.

 

A soft giggle bubbled up and escaped her as she placed the book on the couch, rose and took his hand; her eyes gently mocked his attempt at old-fashioned chivalry. Cupping her ass, he pulled her to him and stole a light peck from her lips, before reaching down to press the play button. In the few seconds it took for the machine to find its first cue on the disk and begin to play, he deftly steered her away from the obstacles of the couch and coffee table to a clear area on the deck.

 

As the first strains of music rose from the ancient piano and violins, her eyes widened with immediate recognition.

 

“Is that—” she began in a hoarse whisper as they began to sway with an almost natural instinct for the music.

 

“The Great Bard himself,” Bill replied softly, “the Lion of Kobol.”

 

 _“Take This Waltz,”_ she whispered.

 

“Yes.”

 

#

 


	2. Chapter 1: Take This Waltz

Chapter 1: Take This Waltz

 

_Now in Vienna there's ten pretty women_

 

“I’ve always thought that this _Vienna_ was a very poor place,” he said, guiding her gracefully about the room. “Now, I certainly _know_ that it was; it didn’t have you.” She blushed prettily, tears sparkling like jewels on her lashes.

 

_There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry_

_There's a lobby with nine hundred windows_

_There's a tree where the doves go to die_

_There's a piece that was torn from the morning_

_And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost_

 

“The first time I heard this song was my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary,” Laura said looking at him through her tears. “I was eight, and snuck out of my room to watch them dancing in the living room. It was the first truly sensual thing I’d ever seen, although I wouldn’t understand that till years later.”

 

_Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay_

_Take this waltz, take this waltz_

_Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws_

 

Bill’s mournful, unmistakeably gravelled tones joined the instruments, blending seamlessly with the Great Bard’s—caressing her to the depths of her wounded soul.

 

_Oh I want you, I want you, I want you_

“Oh you do, do you?” she said saucily, taking refuge in levity.

_On a chair with a dead magazine_

_In the cave at the tip of the lily_

_In some hallways where love's never been_

_On a bed where the moon has been sweating_

 

His only answer was to continue singing, hand again possessively grabbing her ass, pulling her closer so that she could feel his undeniable arousal as his hardness pressed into her groin.

 

_In a cry filled with footsteps and sand_

_Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay_

_Take this waltz, take this waltz_

_Take its broken waist in your hand_

 

Her gasp became a wordless moan and she stumbled in her surprise, momentarily losing the rhythms of the formal old waltz.

 

_This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz_

_With its very own breath of brandy and Death_

_Dragging its tail in the sea_

 

Pressing his advantage, he kissed her—not the gentle, formal peck she was expecting to receive from him, but the kind that devoured her very breath. She moaned again as their tongues battled for supremacy, until finally, they broke for air.

 

_There's a concert hall in Vienna_

_Where your mouth had a thousand reviews_

_There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking_

_They've been sentenced to death by the blues_

_Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture_

_With a garland of freshly cut tears?_

_Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay_

_Take this waltz, take this waltz_

_Take this waltz it's been dying for years_

 

 _I’m like this waltz_ , Laura thought, clinging to him as she tried to catch her breath. She felt safe in his arms as he sailed her effortlessly about the room, softly serenading her.

 

_There's an attic where children are playing_

_Where I've got to lie down with you soon_

_In a dream of Hungarian lanterns_

_In the mist of some sweet afternoon_

_And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow_

 

He held her gaze, and in his fathomless, blue eyes, she indeed saw that all her sorrows, her hopes and fears and dreams were reflected in them. And for a moment—there in his arms—she could believe that her dreams would come true.

 

_All your sheep and your lilies of snow_

_Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay_

_Take this waltz, take this waltz_

_With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"_

_This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz_

_With its very own breath of brandy and Death_

_Dragging its tail in the sea_

 

Her voice didn’t fail her and it was his turn to stare in surprise as she began the final verse of the ancient song. She laughed inwardly at his shock; most Colonials—even the most educated—knew the Bard’s work in passing, but few knew it in any detail. And while he was still a hero among the lusty Leonis and cosmopolitan Capricans, the more repressed Geminese and Saggitarons had banned the Bard’s ancient works.

 

But Laura’s misspent youth as a wild child collecting friends from among poets, artists and other assorted Bohemians, had netted her almost every known recording of the Bard, which she’d cherished as she moved onto other, more _adult_ , pursuits.

 

Until the Cylons had destroyed the Colonies, wiping away millennia of art and culture in a single day.

 

_And I'll dance with you in Vienna_

_I'll be wearing a river's disguise_

_The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,_

_My mouth on the dew of your thighs_

_And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,_

_With the photographs there, and the moss_

_And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty_

_My cheap violin and my cross_

_And you'll carry me down on your dancing_

_To the pools that you lift on your wrist_

 

As Bill held her gaze, he marvelled as her lovely soprano soared—and then broke on the last part of the verse, which she whispered to him, her heart in her eyes.

 

_Oh my love, Oh my love_

_Take this waltz, take this waltz_

_It's yours now. It's all that there is._

 

As the Bard’s female chorus’ voices faded, trailing off into gentle _“La, la, la,”_ with crashing cymbals punctuating each phrase, she laid her head on his shoulder, tears soaking through his shirt while they swayed for the last few moments of the song.

 

#

 


	3. Chapter 2: I’m Your Man

Chapter 2: I’m Your Man

 

When the first song was finished, he let her go and stepped back. She looked at him with a bemused smile playing on her lips as she wiped her tears away with trembling fingers.

 

And as the next song began and he started a little soft-shoe routine, Laura burst into giggles in recognition. She had to lean back against his desk for support, laughing helplessly as he sang the lyrics with exaggerated movements.

 

_If you want a lover_

_I'll do anything you ask me to_

_And if you want another kind of love_

_I'll wear a mask for you_

 

Leering at her comically, he waggled his eyebrows, sending her into even greater paroxysms of laughter. Bill realized that he would make himself the fool a thousand times over if he could hear her laugh like that every day, especially after the gut-wrenching disappointment of the planet below—the world that was to have been their haven ... their salvation ... their Promised Land.

 

_If you want a partner_

_Take my hand_

_Or if you want to strike me down in anger_

_Here I stand_

_I'm your man_

 

“You certainly are,” he heard her say softly as he began a little shadow-boxing, acting out the next part of the song.

 

_If you want a boxer_

_I will step into the ring for you_

_And if you want a doctor_

_I'll examine every inch of you_

 

She caught him by surprise as he attempted to run his hands over her hips, surging forward and capturing his mouth in a searching, searing kiss. For a moment, the song was forgotten as she pressed up against him and he felt his groin tighten even more. He moaned into her mouth.

 

She giggled. “I’ve always loved playing doctor,” she said impudently.

 

_If you want a driver_

_Climb inside_

_Or if you want to take me for a ride_

_You know you can_

_I'm your man_

 

Snaking one arm about her waist, he swung her into a simple two-step, which she fell into so naturally, it was as if they’d always danced together.

 

_Ah, the moon's too bright_

_The chain's too tight_

_The beast won't go to sleep_

_I've been running through these promises to you_

_That I made and I could not keep_

 

“Oh Bill,” she whispered, tracing his rugged cheek with one finger as the lyrics of the ancient song articulated what he couldn’t. But looking into his eyes, she saw everything there—everything he couldn’t put into words, he said with those eloquent blue, blue eyes.

 

_Ah but a man never got a woman back_

_Not by begging on his knees_

 

She raised one elegant eyebrow in naughty askance and Bill laughed. “I’m way too old, Laura,” he said chuckling. “If I got down on my knees, I’d probably never get up again—at least not without Cottle’s assistance. And I doubt you want to entertain his annoying ass this evening—unless of course you do, in which case I’ll have to see what I can arrange.”

 

_Or I'd crawl to you baby_

_And I'd fall at your feet_

_And I'd howl at your beauty_

_Like a dog in heat_

 

Laura’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline in shock as she gasped, “Bill!” and swatted him—whereupon, he actually did let out a pained howl through his laughter at her outrage.

 

_And I'd claw at your heart_

_And I'd tear at your sheet_

_I'd say please, please_

_I'm your man_

 

“I guess threesomes really aren’t your thing, Madam President,” he said still chuckling.

 

“Not on the first date!” she retorted primly, eyes sparkling.

 

_And if you've got to sleep_

_A moment on the road_

_I will steer for you_

 

Bringing her lips close to his ear, Laura said in her most _presidential_ voice, “But _I’ll_ let you know when, Admiral …” Immediately, Bill became almost painfully hard.

 

_And if you want to work the street alone_

_I'll disappear for you_

 

As he stumbled against her, she insinuated one sinfully long leg between his, her thigh deliberately adding to his stimulation, and he found to his dismay, that she was now leading the dance.

 

_If you want a father for your child_

_Or only want to walk with me a while_

_Across the sand_

_I'm your man_

 

“But first you’re going to need training, _Husker_ ,” she continued, an unholy light ghosting through her eyes as she expertly swung him around and dipped him. He felt the desktop against the back of his thighs and hastily moved his hand from her ass to grab the desk in order to steady himself. “Lots and lots of _special_ one-on-one training …” she declared as she leaned in to kiss him hard, the friction of her thigh throwing more fuel onto his already raging fire.

 

_If you want a lover_

_I'll do anything that you ask me to_

_And if you want another kind of love_

_I'll wear a mask for you_

 

#

 


	4. Chapter 3: Ain’t No Cure For Love

Chapter 3: Ain’t No Cure For Love

 

By the time Bill came to his senses, the next song had already begun.

 

_I loved you for a long, long time_

_I know this love is real_

_It don't matter how it all went wrong_

_That don't change the way I feel_

 

Deftly, he extricated himself from her grasp and took a step back, trying to remember what he’d planned for this piece. Her nimble fingers reaching for the next button on his uniform jacket—she’d already managed to get the top _three_ undone without him noticing—reminded him.

 

_And I can't believe that time's_

_Gonna heal this wound I'm speaking of_

 

Unbuttoning his jacket the rest of the way, he quickly pulled it off and laid it across his desk. Her fingers were underneath his tanks before he could continue, pushing them up and caressing his chest. Her head dipped in and his breath caught as her lips and wet, maddening tongue traced the puckered scar that bisected is torso from navel to sternum, where he’d been cut open to remove the bullets from the Cylon Boomer’s assassination attempt.

 

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure,_

 

Catching the hems of his tanks, he pulled them off in one fluid motion as he felt her fingers unbutton his pants and begin to lower the zipper, her caresses deliberately tantalising. Again, the delicious feeling raced through him, spreading from his groin to every millimetre of him.

 

_There ain't no cure for love_

 

Stepping back again from her, he chuckled at her adorable pout; Laura looked like a two-year-old who’d suddenly been deprived of her favourite stuffed bear. Her lips were still delightfully full and red from their earlier bout of kissing.

 

_I'm aching for you baby_

_I can't pretend I'm not_

 

Reaching again for her, Bill made short work of the buttons on the old, comfortable white blouse she’d changed into for her diloxin treatment.

 

_I need to see you naked_

_In your body and your thought_

 

As he slipped the shirt off her shoulder, Laura suddenly felt self-conscious about the state of her body. Unable to keep much down for the last few weeks, she knew she was unattractively thin—her bones too prominent under her skin … all her softness and womanly curves she’d always prided herself on were gone.

 

_I've got you like a habit_

_And I'll never get enough_

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure for love_

 

Bill stopped as she stiffened beneath his touch and turned away, shrugging the shirt back on. For a moment he froze, afraid that he’d read the situation wrong ... dreading that he’d read _her_ wrong.

 

_There ain't no cure for love_

_There ain't no cure for love_

_All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky_

 

Then suddenly, instinctively, he wrapped his arms about her waist from behind and just held her as her sobs told him what she could not. She leaned back into him and simply cried, her too-thin body shaking with the course of her tears.

 

_The holy books are open wide_

_The doctors working day and night_

_But they'll never ever find that cure for love_

_There ain't no drink no drug_

_(Ah tell them, angels)_

_There's nothing pure enough to be a cure for love_

 

After a few moments, her sobs subsided and she turned her head to meet his gentle, non-judgemental gaze.

 

“I love you, Laura,” he husked. “I love _you_ , no matter what.”

 

Laura smiled through her tears and turned in his arms to hug him. “I love you too, Bill,” she replied. It was such a relief to be able to say it again and _know_ it in her heart … to assure herself that the first time wasn’t simply because of her fear of losing her humanity, which had manifested itself in her vision of Elosha, and of Bill and his family at her deathbed.

 

 _I love him, fully and truly_ , she realised, snuggling into the warmth of his of his body with a contented sigh. However, it wasn’t long before his musky scent assailed her senses again, igniting her desire and spreading it from the epicentre of her belly across her skin like wildfire.

 

_I see you in the subway and I see you on the bus_

_I see you lying down with me, I see you waking up_

_I see your hand, I see your hair_

_Your bracelets and your brush_

 

Laura captured his mouth again in a bruising kiss as she tried to struggle out of her blouse. Bill chuckled as they came up for air. Reaching behind her, he freed her arms from her sleeves and dropped the shirt unceremoniously onto the desk.

 

_And I call to you, I call to you_

_But I don't call soft enough_

Laura giggled again when he demonstrated that he’d lost none of those skills he’d learned as a hot-shot young pilot; he deftly popped open the front-closure of her bra.

 

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure for love_

 

Again, she felt a wave of self-consciousness as he freed her breasts. That they were a bit softer, less full than they’d once been made her more nervous than the thought that they’d been her body’s weapon of choice against her.

 

 _You’re not twenty-five—or even thirty-five_ , she chided herself. _You’re a fifty-five year old woman with a fifty-five year old body that’s more than seen its share of life_.

 

Laura gasped as Bill drew her left nipple into his mouth, while his thumb teased the other mercilessly. All her insecurities and self-recriminations vanished as he feasted hungrily on one and then the other.

 

_I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go_

_When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul_

_I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much_

 

Gorging himself on her delightful breasts did nothing to sate Bill’s appetite for her; if anything it was increased tenfold.  He kissed her deeply again as his hands made quick work of her pants, lowering it with her underwear over her hips.

 

_It's written in the scriptures_

_It's written there in blood_

_I even heard the angels declare it from above_

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure,_

_There ain't no cure for love_

 

His hands were everywhere, caressing her back, squeezing her ass, fondling her breasts, while his mouth devoured her very breath. Her lungs burned—her entire body felt as if it was on fire … as if she was being consumed by him.

 

_There ain't no cure for love_

_There ain't no cure for love_

 

She gasped for air as his mouth left hers at last to suckle the sensitive skin in the hollow of her at the base of her neck. “If this is love,” she rasped out, “I hope they _never_ find a cure!”

 

_All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky_

_The holy books are open wide_

_The doctors working day and night_

_But they'll never ever find that cure,_

_That cure for love_

 

#

 


	5. Chapter 4: Dance Me To The End Of Love

Chapter 4: Dance Me To The End Of Love

 

The feel of her soft skin against his was exquisite as their nude bodies slipped into the rhythms of the next song. Bill cupped her chin gently as he sang to her.

 

 _Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin_ _  
__Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in_ _  
__Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove_ _  
__Dance me to the end of love_ _  
__Dance me to the end of love_  


As the next verse began, he lifted his hand to the wig she wore. Laura stiffened, dance forgotten, and through her tears, she saw the question in his eyes. _Permission?_

 

 _Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone_  


Without conscious decision, she nodded, unable to speak. An overwhelming feeling of vulnerability washed over her as Bill slipped the wig from her hairless scalp and gently placed it on his desk, taking care to lay it flat.

 

_Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon  
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of_

_Dance me to the end of love  
Dance me to the end of love  
  
_ When he turned back to her, she wanted nothing more than to turn away, but he held her mesmerized by those blue, blue eyes and all the love she saw there. She’d never felt so truly _naked_ before.

 

As he held her naked body against his again, she felt a sudden sensation roar through her. Hunger. _I hunger for him_ , she realised in shock. _Skin hunger—the hunger for human touch. No one has touched me like this in nearly five years. Oh Gods, how I crave this_. She clung to him … nuzzled into him, as if trying to get beneath his skin.

 

Throughout the instrumental portion of the song, he danced her into the small alcove at the back of his quarters that housed his rack.

  
_Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on_

_Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long_

 

He sat down, pulling her down to him.  She came willingly, straddling his lap, his erection already insistent against her thigh.

  
_We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above_  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
 _Dance me to the end of love_  


Laura gave an involuntary cry as Bill’s fingers found that little bud at the apex of her thighs. The first gentle caress across her clitoral hood sent an unexpectedly strong spark of an orgasm racing through her.  Her eyes widened as she looked down into his smouldering blue gaze.  She’d always been passionate and her body had been very responsive in her youth—and she’d never lacked for lovers who could take her to heights of orgasmic pleasure. But it had been years since she’d been this responsive to a simple caress.

 

As she grew older, sex became a thing of comfort and companionship—especially in those last years with Richard. More often than not she’d failed to reach orgasm, and she’d accepted it as an inevitable consequence of getting older.

 

Now, as Bill’s finger dipped into her body, _she_ found surprise again; she was already _wet_ … dripping wet … and a familiar tightening sensation began to build in the pit of her belly as he spread that wetness about he nether lips before concentrating again on her clitoris.

  
_Dance me to the children who are asking to be born  
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn_

 

Her breathing was ragged as she undulated above him, bowing her head to kiss him passionately before breaking the kiss with a hoarse, gasping cry as he felt her sex throb and spasm against his insistent fingers.

  
_Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn_  
Dance me to the end of love  


_“Please!”_ she growled, looking down again into Bill’s eyes with an almost frightening intensity. “Please Bill, I need you,” she whispered, voice hoarse and thick with need.

 

“You have me,” he husked back. “You will always have me, Laura.”

 

With one hand on her hip and the other on his burgeoning erection, he guided himself into her at last. A soft indrawn hiss was the only indication of discomfort before she gave a long drawn-out moan as he slid fully into her. All movement stilled for a long moment and they gazed into each other’s eyes.

 

 _Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin_  
_Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in_  
 _Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove_

 

Then she began to move, slow, languorous movements that drove him mad with desire as she seemed to flow around him, liquid and illusive. Bill knew that he wouldn’t last long. At his age, he had no illusions about his stamina. Slipping his hand between their joined bodies, he found her clit again— _“the only human organ with no other function but the pleasure of its owner,”_ an old girlfriend had once told him—and proceeded to coax it from its hiding place.

 

She cried out hoarsely again at his touch and began to move faster … riding him … her breath coming in loud gasps now as her fingers dug into his biceps.

  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
 _Dance me to the end of love_

The song began again as the last _“la, la, la”_   of the Bard’s female chorus died away, but wrapped in the wet, warm sheath of her, Bill no longer cared as the song repeated; he’d set it to repeat twice because it was his favourite.

 

Laura’s luminous face above him was never more beautiful as she cried, straining towards completion, pulling him involuntarily in her wake. He didn’t know how much longer he would last caught in the maelstrom of pure sensation spreading inexorably from the epicentre of his groin, but pulling her closer … lost in her keening cries … he gave himself over to the storm of emotions.

 

_Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin …_

 

#

 


	6. Epilogue: Hallelujah

Epilogue: Hallelujah

 

She awoke later, captivating him with a sexy, sleepy smile as she slowly focused clear emerald eyes on him. He couldn’t help but smile back—the look of satisfaction on her face gave new meaning to the phrase, _“the cat that got the best cream.”_

 

“Hey,” he husked.

 

“Mmm,” she sighed, snuggling closer to him under the blanket so that she lay half on him, her head on his shoulder—one naked sock-clad leg thrown over his hip.

 

He held her close and with his free hand, gently traced the contours of her face beneath the light blue scarf he’d helped her put on and tie before she fell asleep. It tickled him that Laura Roslin was in his rack wearing nothing but a scarf and a pair of socks—and it also saddened him because of what those two articles of clothing meant. Even with his body heat to warm her … in spite of his love … the cold was seeping in; her fingertips playing with the scar on his chest were icy.

 

“Have you been awake long?” she asked finally.

 

“All night,” he replied rather sheepishly.

 

“Bill!” she said, admonishment clear in her voice as she pushed herself up on her elbow to look down into his eyes. “You needed your rest as much as I did.”

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. He chuckled softly. “I generally have trouble sleeping after momentous occasions, and you must admit, that was a momentous occasion.”

 

Laura giggled like a schoolgirl. “Momentous huh,” she murmured finally when she could speak again.

 

“Yup!”

 

“Well you certainly chose the right music to accompany such a _momentous_ occasion,” she said. “I never would have pegged you as a fan of the Lion of Kobol.”

 

He laughed again. “I was actually introduced to his music thanks to Saul—”

 

 _“Saul?”_ she said incredulously. “Saul Tigh—I wouldn’t think he’d know the Bard from a briar-bird squawking.”

 

“He wouldn’t,” Bill chuckled. “But he did know a certain young lady at a certain gentlemen’s club near the Leonis Spaceport. She used to do a rather … umm … _inventive_ strip tease while singing, _“Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-on”_.”

 

Laura exploded into giggles again. “Oh my gods!” she gasped. “A bunch of my friends and I nearly got expelled from university our first year for singing that in the school’s old amphitheatre one night—well that and the fact that we were drunk and we broke in. It was one of those traditional, open-air theatres with stone seats in a terraced semi-circle set into the side of a hill—it was fairly easy to climb over the fence.”

 

“Wow, you were quite a rebel when you were younger, Ms Roslin,” he teased.

 

She licked her lips suggestively. “Well, I certainly wasn’t an angel, Admiral Adama,” she replied. “By the time I left university, I’d collected almost every extant version of the Bard’s recordings—including some rather ribald versions. Actually,” she said thoughtfully, “now that I think about it, there was one song you played tonight that I’ve never heard before.”

 

Bill looked at her in surprise. “Really, which one?”

 

She blushed bright red, which intrigued him no end. How she could go from sultry minx to almost girlish innocence in the blink of an eye was beyond him.

 

“Which one?” he insisted.

 

She shifted to stretch out, fully covering him with her body so that they were face to face. He slipped his hands down to possessively cup her ass.

 

“I don’t know what it’s called, but it was that rather uplifting one that was playing while you showed me that eloquent tongue of yours could be used for much more than just … ah … _talking_ ,” she replied, tracing his full lips with one gentle finger.

 

He frowned in confusion for a moment before it dawned on him what she was referring to. He chuckled softly. “Ah, you mean _“Hallelujah”_ ,” he said.

 

“That’s the one, hah-le-lu-yah,” she replied, sounding out the unfamiliar word.

 

“I looked it up once,” he said. “It’s actually an ancient benediction meaning, ‘Praise to the Gods’.”

 

Laura chuckled. “Well that’s certainly a fitting description for this evening,” she said as he joined her laughter. “Hallelujah, Bill … _Hallelujah_!”

 

 


End file.
